


The Autumn Soldier

by handaboo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Minor Character Death, Other, Robotic Arm, Torture, mind wipe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handaboo/pseuds/handaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is Bucky wasn't the only one?<br/>Experimentation of a possible super soldier serum takes place, much to an unlucky girl's surprise. Lots of violence, death, and general broken-ness that could be triggering. Be warned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

What would you do if your life was torn away from you? No, I don’t mean, like, your life changing for the better, or becoming amazingly cool, or at first seeming bad, then turning around. I mean your life literally being taken away. 

Family killed.

Body changed.

Mind broken.

That’s what I mean.

This story is not a nice one. 

It is not funny.

Its ending is not happy.

But it is the truth. 

If you wish to proceed, go with a word of warning.

Although I have changed, become something that I fear I will never accept, I am still just a human.

I never asked for this. Nevertheless, it is my life now. While I may never come to terms with what has happened, I swear I will never, ever do what I did again. 

All I ask is that you try to understand.

Try to forgive me.


	2. Taken

It’s hard to look back.

It was painful to remember. 

When it began to come back, I realized I didn’t want to remember.

As I said, it was very painful.

Maybe someday… Maybe someday I will forget. 

But that’s not today.

Today, you will hear my story. The details come back to me more clearly every day. Every night, my dreams are filled with screams. Whose they were… Too many to count.

* * *

I used to be happy. I loved my family, my family loved me.

I was home from college for the summer. I was going to be a Junior that year.

I was happy.

I think I had a job. I remember doing things with my hands, being busy. I liked it.

It was good to relax from the strain of studying. But looking back, that strain seems like it was nothing.

My family’s faces are completely gone from my memory, but I remember there were eight siblings. I was the third oldest. I had two older brothers, three younger ones, and two younger sisters. 

My parents loved all of us.

We were happy together.

I just wish… I wish I had had time to say goodbye. Everything passed too quickly.

What I remember… isn’t happy.

I was with my family. On one of those rare evenings where we were all home together, we were doing something together.

A game.

I think I was losing. But I didn’t care.

I was happy.

We were having a good time. There was music in the background. We were all laughing.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

My father went to go answer it. We didn’t know who would be here at this time of the day, but we weren’t worried. We lived in a very small, safe neighborhood. 

In fact, we never feared anything.

In just a few seconds, that changed.

There was a loud bang, and my mother screamed, for my father had crumpled to the ground. A pool of red began to spread on the ground around his head. 

Then, he stepped in. He was a tall, dark man. He wore black, and a mask that covered his mouth and eyes. His hair was long and unkempt. He came closer and closer to the table. We all started to scream as he approached.

By this point, hysteria was quickly setting in my mind, and I’m sure my family felt the same way. The man radiated death.

Oh, and my father was dead.

That too.

It’s odd. The first thing I thought of once I saw my father crumpled on the floor was, _I will never talk to him again._

_I will never hear his laugh again._

_He’s dead._

Then, the real panic sets in. Once you realize that this man is a murderer. That he doesn’t care about your life. Or anyone else’s. 

The oddest thing was that he stared only at me. The raw hatred and determination in his eyes filled me with more fear than I had ever felt before. 

I wanted just to wish him away. But that didn’t work. Especially when pain racked my shoulder as he grabbed it with one hand, and with another, held a gun pointed at my head.

He pulled me to my feet from my chair, and I screamed as he began to take me away from my family.

They were screaming too. But not just from the fact that I was being taken away. 

No, they were screaming because loud bangs from the gun were filling the air. 

One by one, those screams fell silent.

As I wrenched around in his grasp, my heart stopped. 

They were dead.

All of them.

The holes in their heads made rivers of blood fall across their blank faces. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

I started to scream “No” over and over. I couldn’t believe that this was real. It couldn’t be.

The man yanked on my shoulder. He wanted me to turn back around. He wanted to leave.

I didn’t want to.

I was still screaming. I couldn’t stop myself. The funny thing was, no tears came. Just the loud sounds from my mouth that wouldn’t stop.

The man pulled harder. He was very frustrated, I could tell. This time, when he pulled, my arm moved into an odd position. It bent the wrong way.

He broke it. 

The screaming wouldn’t stop, same as the hysteria. I still couldn’t breathe. The edges of my sight turned black. Lack of oxygen made me lose balance, and I fell to the ground in a broken heap.

Out of the corner of my fading vision, I saw the man lift his left arm to prepare for a strike down upon my head.

The blow came swiftly.

The screaming stopped.

So did the hysteria.

And my mind.


	3. Hurt

Bright lights.

Silence.

Strapped down.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe.

Pain.

So much pain…

These thoughts ran rampant though my head as I struggled to awake. My head was fuzzy with pain, so much so that it was indeed hard to breathe. I suddenly came to as a sharp stab of this pain coursed through my arm as I twitched slightly in my half-asleep state.

The numerous straps across my body held me stiffly onto an examining table, with my arms close at my side and legs close together. With relief, I noticed I was still clad, but in a light fabric hospital gown.

My vision was tainted with pain. It was hard to see, but I could tell there were no people in the room I was in, which was small and white.

The white-hot pain in my arm yanked me out of my thoughts. My chest heaved as I writhed in feverish pain.

I couldn’t think.

Looking down as much as I could, I could tell that it was definitely broken. And out of place. It was very swollen and dark purple.

I groaned in agony and turned my head away. 

I was very frightened. And confused. And angry.

But there was nothing I could do about it here.

“I hope you aren’t in any… discomfort.”

An older, male voice entered the room from a door to me left. I snapped my head in that direction, but once again cried out.

I couldn’t see his face very clearly then, but I remember what it looked like. I don’t ever want to see it again.

I wanted to say something, but my mouth was too dry.

Then… I saw him. 

The man. The man that killed my family.

He had stepped into the room with the other man, and stood in the corner, just staring at me. His mask was off, but I couldn’t see his face.

I started to shake, half with pain and half with fear. The image of my dead family flashed before my eyes.

“I know you might be a bit apprehensive as to why you are here, but rest assured, this is for the greater good.”

_Greater good?_

_GREATER GOOD?_

“You killed them! You killed all of them! They’re dead!” My voice was hoarse and quiet, and it cracked.

The man was silent for a few moments. “Though the price is great, the product is unimaginable. You’ll come to thank me later.”

The pain in my arm was growing the more awake I became.

The man continued in a tone that suggested that he was totally fine with all of this, which made me even more terrified.

“You’re not the first. We’ve had other test subjects besides you. The problem was, they all died of heart failures an hour after the injection. But I have a good feeling about you. We needed isolated subjects. Your family was out of the way, no relatives or close friends. You were the closest to our facility, were the healthiest out of the bunch, and had the right blood type.”

He paused, then stepped next to me and leaned in close so I could see his face.

“Lucky you.”

He turned and directed his attention to someone outside the room. “I believe we’re ready.”

People filed into the room, with a large cart in between all of them. It was filled with things I couldn’t make out, but some of them looked sharp.

The shaking started again, and so did the hysteria. 

I couldn’t speak, but I wanted them to get away from me.

They were going to hurt me.

I writhed, albeit in pain, trying to loosen the straps as the men in white gathered around me. One of the people stepped beside my head. He was holding a large syringe filled with a dark blue liquid. He positioned it close to my neck.

My head was free, so I wriggled it furiously, panicking, until some of the other “doctors” came behind me and held it still.

My chest heaved as my breaths came in shallowly. The dark man in the corner was still just staring at me. Now that my vision had cleared, I could see his face, which was expressionless. He just… stared.

My mouth opened in a silent scream as the needle pressed against my skin, then entered with a slight pinch. 

The pain in my arm was nothing compared to what came next.

As the doctor pushed the foreign liquid inside of my neck, it felt like I had swallowed fire. Instantly, my body jerked around as if possessed.

It hurt.

I couldn’t control my own body as I thrashed in pain, unable to make a sound, it was so intense.

The man who had been talking was watching me intently. I think he enjoyed it.

Suddenly, once I could feel the liquid in every part of my body, I began to change.

My bones and muscles began to stretch and grow larger. The worst part was when my arms began to stretch. My left arm, which was broken and out of place, was filled with such agony that I couldn’t breathe. My body was trying to fix it, but it wasn’t working. It just twisted in horrifying ways, trying to fit back in place.

My bonds began to stretch as I arched my back. My mouth was still open in a silent scream as my body forced its way upwards. 

I couldn’t take the pain much longer.

My voice suddenly found itself, and such a scream you may never hear filled the room.

As I certainly didn’t know what had happened to me, and I didn’t find out until recently, I may as well tell you what they did to me.

I was injected with a concentrated serum believed to be a close replica of the Super Soldier Serum, which was basically a steroid that turned normal people into superheroes.  
They were changing me for their own benefit, turning me into a perfect weapon. They were testing the chemical, for they wanted more like me. As the man had said, there had been other test subjects before me. Forty-nine, to be exact. 

I was the fiftieth.

The chemical, which had been tweaked slightly every time after each subject, was then believed to be as close at it could be to complete.

If this worked, they would have an army of super soldiers at their fingertips.

Whoever these people were.

As I writhed in extreme pain, my left arm only became more and more mangled. It hurt worse than before.

When the serum began to fit into place, the pain began to slowly release me. My heart was racing at an unimaginable speed, but it felt different.

Stronger.

As the pain was so great, I was blinded for a few moments after the pain receded.

But I could hear just fine.

They were conversing. Although quiet, I could hear the word amputation over and over.

Finally, the man from before spoke to me as I lay still, heaving in air.

“Congratulations, miss! Our first experiment has concluded, and you have survived. However, as we expected, your left arm refused the treatment as a result of its… complications. This will not be a problem for the surgeons.”

“No, no, no, no…” I groaned in frustration, fear, and a whole mix of emotions I couldn’t identify. 

The hyperventilation started.

First my body changing, and now the loss of a limb.

What more could they do to me?

I had no idea of the horror in store.

I could only scream as I heard the snap of my already cracked bone.


End file.
